


I Can See Clearly Now, the Rain is Gone

by onestepatatime



Series: Dwarven Theater in My Head [3]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Gen, Post BoFA, Sad alert! Angst possible!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:03:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onestepatatime/pseuds/onestepatatime
Summary: Balin had a bad feeling when Dain boasted at the BOFA victory feast that “Miracles rain down on the line of Durin this day!” Cheers had rocked the mountain in agreement: The Durins’ lived, Erebor belonged to Durin’s Folk again, and Dain was a proficient regent skillfully making treaties with the Woodland Elves and the Men of New Dale. Then the rain came as tears as fever and infection spare Thorin’s life, only for him to wake with his sight stolen. Will someone be able to reach through the rage and self-loathing, or will Thorin hide in seclusion for the rest of his life, cursing those same miracles?Updates to this series are not on a set schedule.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zorchide](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zorchide/gifts).



> Zorchide liked this enough to bookmark it twice. 
> 
> Story title and song lyrics are from the 1972 hit single and album "I Can See Clearly Now" by Johnny Nash.
> 
> I was thinking of the story's title and this song's lyrics came to mind. I love the song and the lyrics fit beautifully with the overall story arc.
> 
> Legal Disclaimer: All trademarks and copyrights are owned by their respective owners. I make no profit from this story.

Whoosh! Thorin clearly heard the whoosh of air as Bofur barely ducked in time as the…

BAM! Splash! The pewter mug hit the wall with a satisfactory sound that matched Thorin’s mood. He could hear Oin’s brew dripping onto the floor from a table as well as Bofur wiping his shirt with a cloth.

“You’ll be cleaning that up.” Bofur’s voice was calm and collected, to the average ear. Thorin smirked as he detected the slight waiver in it. The miner had been reluctant to stay with Thorin while Balin was away.

“The guard will clean it.” Thorin shrugged as he sat back down on his bed, the smile leaving his face. The thought of the lone guard kept outside of his door reminded him of his isolation in this dingy little room far from the halls being renovated or repaired. Any pleasure in Bofur’s misery was easily forgotten with a rare bout of guilt. Only Bofur would be kind enough to put up with the forgotten king for an extended period. Where was Balin anyway? His advisor turned babysitter hadn’t even been outside the door to talk to the guard.

“You will clean up your mess.” A damp cloth was put into Thorin’s hand. “I promised Balin that you would not cause any problems. Bofur’s voice had an almost familiar tone, one the miner used regularly with Bifur on his bad days and with Thorin before he was sent here, before everyone gave up on him.

“Where is Balin?” Thorin just crossed his arms like a stubborn child, again. “Balin is always here before breakfast. Why are you here, Bofur?” His voice conveyed his displeasure at having anyone, even the Company, here.

“We are both here because you refuse to live your life.” Bofur put the rag back in his hand and turned Thorin in the direction of the mess. “Three steps to the table. Some got on the floor to the left as well. I told you that Balin is busy today. Balin told you before that he could not be here.”

“Cannot or will not be here? Has he tired of the cursed king as well?” Thorin used his much practiced innocent dwarf whine, though he had worked extremely hard to keep everyone away.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but maybe a bit of reality will do you some good.” Bofur pulled up a chair and sat. Thorin cringed at the scraping sound, but held his tongue to finally get an answer.

“Balin is standing with Fili and Kili at a funeral, filling in for you. He knew that you wouldn’t go…The boys are heartbroken by your refusal to see them, you know…So he went himself.”

“A state funeral?” Thorin was caught by surprise; little changed in his now limited little world of four walls.

“Erebor’s not organized enough to have a king proclaim such an event.” The pause was deliberate. “Fili and Dain did what they could to make it all proper.”

“Why is Dain still here? Fili is my heir.” Thorin was alarmed. Fili should have taken over as king two months ago with his discharge from the infirmary.

“Fili is little more than a boy to Dain’s battalion that he left here. Most mere foot soldiers are nearly twice his age. Balin is also occupied daily with his immature uncle. We also desperately need Dain’s stone sense help. He is one of only a few dwarves here that knows Erebor and her tones, much less the words of the chants. Besides, how can he leave when the mountain is snowed in? Jule was two moons ago, Thorin.”

“Two moons?” Now Thorin gave pause in disbelief. He had awoke a week before the Jule celebrations. He had been trapped in here more than a moon.

“Because Erebor’s native born king refuses to use his own intimate knowledge of the mountain, others with strong stone sense came from the Iron Mountains. We’re desperate, Thorin. Desperate enough for Durel, son of Shonel, to make the journey in a blizzard two weeks ago. He was killed by a cave-in two days ago in the Inner District.”

“The Inner District?” Thorin’s hand found the table and he managed to slide to the floor, stunned. That was where critical areas of the city such as food storage and the infirmary were located. The Inner District’s stone sense chants were the first that the young prince had learned; even Dis and Frerin had learned them, it was so critical an area. Now Frerin was dead and Dis was in Belegost waiting for winter to pass before traveling here with the first of their returning clan.

“A load bearing support pillar rang true as sound, according to Durel, a day before it fell and crushed him and two others with the strongest stone sense.” Bofur’s voice held a tone that would be akin to malice, if it wasn’t laced with so much grief.

“Clean the mess and eat your breakfast. Dain has rationed food and medicine; you’ll get no replacements for what is wasted, Thorin.” Bofur got up, his boots sounding by the door.

Thorin knew that sound. When he acted out too aggressively, Balin would leave and he would be alone for hours as he threw things and shouted angry curses. Bofur’s warning was clear: behave or no more food or sleep medicine today.

“I will get the next dose this afternoon?” No matter how he hated Oin’s draughts, Thorin needed them to sleep away the hours, to forget what had happened. His wounds had healed and now the only pain was emotional.

“If you clean up your mess and I don’t have to report any problems.” Bofur’s voice held caution. More than one dwarf had been knocked unconscious by a flying object thrown by a supposedly calm Thorin. His room was sparsely furnished with sturdy furniture and heavy pewter cups and dishes. No knives or breakables were within reach, ever.

“I will not cause problems, for today.” A promise for one day was all that the forgotten king could promise, for his pain could not be forgotten. Thorin halfheartedly wiped the wall in a guess as to the splatter point, then the table. He only managed to slosh wet liquid onto his shirt, then his knees when he lowered himself to dry the floor and landed right in the puddle.

“Fair enough.” Bofur allowed. Now satisfied with at least an effort on Thorin’s part, he helped him to his feet and guided him to the seat next to his morning meal.

“Erebor needs her king, Thorin.”

“I’m broken and ruined.” He knew that few could look at his milky eyes with their huge, undilated pupils without an audible gasp and silent cringe.

“Broken, just like Erebor. Not ruined, neither, but she will be if you refuse to take your rightful place.”

“Fili will…”

“Be reduced to an advisor when Dain caves in to his people’s demands for a real king. We predict that his son, Thorin Stonehelm, will be named heir when he arrives in the spring.”

“No!” Thorin pounded the table with a fist that then sent plates flying. “Curses, questions, and demands built up like a stone lodged in his throat, but he could barely say one word. “WE made the trek, NOT some…”

“Dain’s army saved our hides and they won’t let anyone forget it. They are the majority here in Erebor, Thorin, not the Company.” Bofur let out a long sigh.

“What is it?” Thorin was an expert at receiving bad news and could easily predict it.

“Spring is nearly here, Thorin, and Erebor needs Balin as a member of the King’s Council. Dain knows that he needs Erebor natives as well as his own kin as advisors to keep those coming from Belegost happy. I advise you to think on your boredom and hunger today. Tomorrow start letting Balin help you transition to taking your place as Erebor’s rightful king. They’ve already arranged for a replacement to come in a week’s time if you refuse.”

“A replacement? Who?” Only Balin could handle Thorin, make his see reason, or put up with his anger and self-pity.”

“Someone from the Woodland Realm. Thranduil promised that they were trained and uniquely qualified to help you learn to function on your own.” Bofur slipped through the doorway, the guard slamming it shut just as the remaining plates started flying.

“Shouldn’t we tell him who is coming?” The guard was a young recruit with horrible luck to be assigned down here.

“He doesn’t deserve it.” Bofur shook his head. “Thorin’s to get no more food or medicine until breakfast tomorrow.”

“Lord Dain’s order?” The guard moved a step farther away from the door as a body slammed into it repeatedly.

“Prince Fili’s actually, on the recommendation of Prince Kili’s betrothed, Lady Tauriel.” Titles were still an odd sensation on Bofur’s tongue, though he was now an esteemed noble himself.

“Who, sir? The Lady Dis won’t leave Belegost for at least another moon.”

“The one member of the Company who hasn’t tried to reason with the clothead, our Burglar.” Bofur looked at the disbelief on the guard’s face and felt realized that he felt the same way. It was no surprise that he left feeling no remorse for letting Thorin think that an elf would be his caregiver. Erebor as she was meant to be was dying, taking the Thorin that they knew and loved with her.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies that I've not updated my other stories. I've been ill since the end of January. It has not helped me to write the chapters that I've really been wanting to write, much less post. The song is cheery and nicely describes the joy of the end of a long illness. So here is a story that describes my recent/current feelings and fufills the writer's craving to post something. It's not top knotch work, but I think you'll like it.
> 
> I do not recommend going to the source sites if you easily get a queasy stomach. They have graphic photos.  
> Sources:  
> Corneal blindness www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2823104/  
> Corneal Abrasion Symptoms www.aao.org/eye-health/diseases/corneal-abrasion-symptoms  
> en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haptic_perception


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